Open Grey Eyes
by Emerin
Summary: I see your face with every push I take, and every bone I break. Its all for you. And my worse pains are words I can not say. Still I will always fight on for you. x Veela!Draco x HarryDraco x


Hey gentle readers!

I'm back!...er...briefly. . My modem's been out, so I've had to make due with just writing stories...Lucky for you! Here's a new little one-shot I came up with in face of all the Veela!Draco stories out there. I'd like to think mine's justa TAD original. More angst than fluff, thank god.

anyways. LOTS more on the way. Keep your eyes open and enjoy this one!

* * *

They charged in, like medevil knights on gleaming white horses. They wielded shields and swords and fought against the darkest of evils bent on destorying the world as we know it. Their capes billowed in the wind and they wore their wounds like red badges of courage. They fought. They battled. They cried out in glorious determination.

They died.

Grey eyes watched from behind the throne dias as the war spilled like a fresh blood into the inner chamber. They never should've gotten this far...but they did.

The first in were of course the only ones who stood a chance against the Dark Lord. The old man looked weary, his silvery beard splattered with blood. But he held his wand tightly in his fist and never waivered his gaze.

The boy who took place besides him was never really a boy to begin with. He looked about 17, but he was already an old soul who'd seen far too much. His bright green eyes shone from his filthy face, his robes slashed in numerous places as evidence of narrowly escaped deaths. But he stood taller than any of them so far. With a wand in one hand and a long, blood-stained sword in the other, the boy didn't waste a moment in the doorway and instead stormed forward probably with the knowledge that this last battle was his alone.

Grey eyes just watched.

Watched as the man who he vaguely recalled as being his father was cut down in a matter of minutes. Two more men in black lay slain besides him. Then another. Then one more. Now it was only the two of them. The ugly white thing who reeked of sin and darkness and the valiant knight who wore his tattered robes with honor.

They fought. A ferocious battle. He huddled beneath the gold throne, his bare skin trying to sink into the cold stone floor. The boy bit his lip, swung and hit the thing in its side. The thing grabbed the sword and lunged forward. The boy gasped, green eyes blinking in shock. Soft pitter patter. A sharp metallic stench hit his nose.

Grey eyes widened.

The boy smiled as his eyes sang stories of pain and youthful bravery.

"No!" Grey eyes groaned, his body tingling in ways he barely remembered.

Pitter patter. Plop plop. The boy grinned.

"You never ssstood a chance, boy. Your fate twinesss with mine and endsss with me. What sssaysss the great Harry Potter, now? What sssay you to finally being ssslain at the handsss of the powerful Lord Voldemort?"

The boy paused, but he smiled.

"In God's name, under the power of Merlin, I unbind you."

He pauses. Pitter patter. Plop plop.

"N-no...Wait!...NO!"

The boy twists his wrist and the sword disappears into the white thing. He screams.

Grey eyes covers his ears, hearing the screeching of a thousand dead souls cry out then die. There is an explosion, everything goes bright. Then there is darkness.

Grey eyes open. They watch. The white thing is no more. And the boy stands alone in the middle of the chamber, his sword the only thing holding him up. Green eyes look unseeingly ahead of him, as if not entirely sure how he got to this place in time. But there he is. All alone. Still standing when he really shouldn't have.

Grey eyes blur. He scrambles to his feet, not caring whether this boy will hurt him or not, and runs to him. He looks at the boy hesitantly. He's covered in blood. His arm hugs his stomach stained red while the other grips the hilt of his sword like a lifeline. His knees are buckling and the pool of blood at his feet is growing larger by the second. His green eyes cloud over. He falls forward.

Grey eyes slips his arms round the boy, breathing in deep lungfuls of blood, sweat and courage. His skin throbs and his heart aches.

The boy looks up in a daze before blinking in amazement.

"...Draco?"

Draco...it sounds so familiar, so warm.

"Draco is that you?"

Was it him? Was he this Draco? Perhaps...he really couldn't say. He didn't remember anything before...

"We...we all thought you were dead..."

Dead...Dead...

"Draco...why are you helping me?...why..."

Grey eyes looked down at the boy and saw not a man, or an old soul or shattered remains of a forgotten childhood, but simply a boy...a boy who'd lived hard and lived long. He scooped the boy up in his arms, noting he had given into the sweet release of unconsciousness. Not caring whether he was scared of leaving for fear of more beatings, because now the white thing and his father were dead, or how cold the castle felt in just his tattered rags, Grey eyes walked out of the chamber. His nostrils full of death, his feet drenched in blood, his eyes overwhelmed with corpses, Grey eyes walked towards the old man with the fraying beard.

Grey eyes held the boy tighter as the old man regarded him with an astonished look. He held the boy tighter as the last demons fell. He held tighter as the knights gathered round him, all wearing gazes of shock and grim realization.

Grey eyes watched and he held tight.

- + -

Harry Potter stirred in the early beams of morning, soft groans of pain rumbling past his lips. Slowly he opened his eyes, wincing at the bright sunlight filtering through the curtains.

"Ah, I see you're finally awake."

Harry's heart skipped a beat as he blinked furiously, trying to bring the room more into focus. "Professor Dumbledore?"

"Ah Harry, you have graduated Hogwarts and won a vicious war, I'd say that grants you the right to call me Albus."

Harry managed the smallest of smiles, his throat scratchy and tight. "T-thanks."

The man nodded and stood up from where he had been seated, to walk within Harry's range of sight. He looked battered and bandaged, but there was a sense of accomplishment about him.

"Where am I?"

"Hogwarts."

"So, we won, eh?"

Albus smiled grimly and stood just to the side of Harry's splinted leg. "To say that we defeated Voldemort and any chances of him returning again, then yes. I'd say we won."

Whatever little happiness Harry had begun to develop quickly exstinguished at the look of sadness in Dumbledore's endless blue eyes. As if the man triggered a memory in his brain, Harry abruptly sat up and instantly regretted it. Piercing slashes of pain ripped through his abdomen, making him whimper but press on despite Albus' concern.

"Where are Ron and Hermione?"

Albus' expression was answer enough and Harry's world fell apart around him. His hand dug into his hair and he was mildly shocked to discover it loose and cascading like unspun silk over his fingers. Tears spilled unbidden down his pale cheeks as a hollowness like nothing he'd ever experienced before settled in the pit of his heart and his soul.

A soft whimper came from his side and Harry was startled to discover his other hand enveloped in someone else's. Looking up, he met with a strong silver gaze he'd thought was only a dream.

"Draco!"

"Oh yes. He hasn't left your side the entire time."

Harry looked over at his old professor, tears continuing to trickle from confused green eyes. "What? Why?"

Albus sighed deeply and sat down on the cot besides his. "That is a story with many missing parts."

"Tell me what you know...I thought you had said Draco was dead."

The old man gave another sigh, this one seeming to come straight from his soul."It was what I was led to believe. After Mr.Malfoy here had disappeared from his bedroom last Christmas, nothing was heard of him since then. Lucius, however, vocalized his intense loathing of his son at every meeting and Voldemort spoke of Draco's disposal, so Severus of course reported to us that the boy was more than likely killed."

"But he obviously wasn't." Harry said quite plainly.

"Yes, obviously. It wasn't until just a few days ago that we discovered well-kept information amoung Voldemort's inner circle that the Dark Lord was going to perform the Ritual of Binding Power."

"You told me this already! He was going to bind himself to some Veela, therefore gaining the creature's powers and using it like a puppet of great doom. What does this have to do with Draco turning up in a loincloth, and saving my life?"

The graying man folded his hands together, his face solemn. " Draco...was the veela they intended to use."

Harry blinked. "Wha-HUH? But...but he's a pureblood."

"Alas, it seemed young Narcissa, who herself has Veela blood in her, had an affair with a Veela male. She never spoke the truth of Draco's true father until her death, which resulted in Lucius' anger and Draco's subsequent kidnapping."

"But the ritual called for a full Veela..."

"Combined with a full male Veela, the half-blood of Narcissa made it close to impossible that Draco would not inherit a full Veela's qualities."

Harry looked down at the blonde kneeling at his bedside and frowned. The old Slytherin closed his eyes and snuggled his face in their linked hands, seeming for the world a contented little kitten. "So...he's not really a wizard?"

"Not anymore."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, frowning more.

"You see, Harry...it takes quite alot to subdue a fully realized Veela. Probably only its mate would be able to control the creature or a skilled trainer. Since Lucius and Voldemort were neither, they resorted to, shall we say, crude methods."

Harry's eyes locked onto the sighing blond at his side and gripped the boy's hand tighter. "What did they do?"

A heavy sigh. "There's evidence that Draco was subjected to cruel amounts of physical abuse and long periods of time spent under the Crucius."

A tear escaped Harry's eyes as he finally saw the long red slashes along a pale back, and bandages wrapped round both wrists and neck with angry red spilling out from under. It was disgusting. "What'll happen to him now?"

"Well. All his living relatives are either awaiting trial or refuse to accept him as a Malfoy, so...he'll most likely be sent to the Department of Affairs of Magical Creatures and perhaps put in a colony if he passes their regulations."

"And if he doesn't?"

"He will be executed."

Harry's heart stopped for the second time that day. "What! Thats absurd! They can't kill him!"

"If the department finds him unsuitable for release into a colony, they have to put him down."

"WHY!"

"Because with all the damage to his mind he's endured, there's no guarantee he'd ever be able to function properly. He'd be a danger to wizards and Veela alike."

"He's a human being, not some failed lab experiment!"

"Harry, you must calm down."

"NO! I will NOT calm down! You're talking about murder, Professor! This man saved my life! He picked me up and carried me out of that room before it collapsed! If he hadn't of done that, I'd be...well, I'd be dead! A creature capable of endangering others doesn't go around saving people's lives."

Albus sat back, his eyes slowly brightening in the wake of the boy's outburst. "He must go somewhere. He can't simply live on his own anymore."

"Then...then I'LL take him."

The headmaster slowly smiled. "You do realize he will be your complete and utter responsibility, don't you? Anything he does, good or bad, will be directly put onto you. You will be his master and you will have to take care of him until the end of your days."

"He's not a dog, Professor. He's Draco Malfoy."

At this, Albus sobered. " I'm afraid you're mistaken there, Harry. You see, the result of all the abuse on young Draco's mind was that he...well...he lost his entire memory."

Harry blinked. "What?"

"Draco no longer remembers who he was. Without his wizarding upbringing, the Veela in him has taken complete control."

Harry looked down at the boy, watching him bury his nose into the top of his hand.

"I'm afraid its permanent."

Harry reached over and idly stroked Draco's white-blond hair. It was gritty and limp, evidence of his year long Hades.

"Give him a good home, Harry. Make new happy memories for both him...and you."

The raven-haired boy nodded mutely, flashes of Hermione's smile and Ron's freckles ripping fresh tears from his eyes.

Draco held his hand tighter and whimpered.

- + -

Days passed into months. Hermione and Ron's funerals came and went and Harry felt emptier with every passing second. After signing Black Manor over to Remus Lupin and collecting inheritance Sirius had left him, Harry bought a flat on the outskirts of Scarsborough and settled into a life of absolute isolation.

With money coming out his ears, Harry felt no real need to pursue a career as an Auror. Most of his friends either dead or tramatized, Harry didn't see the point in trying to help out in the Reconstruction the Ministry had to endure. Voldemort left more than enough destruction in his wake and it'd probably take the wizarding world a good decade or two to reach a low level of normal. So what if he didn't show his face? The wizarding world already had given him up for dead when he never came out of the Hogwarts infirmary and supposedly never showed up for his best friends' memorial services. Dumbledore had snuck him out late at night and Harry stood far in the back next to Draco.

But he was just fine with everyone thinking he was just another tragic casualty of the war. He was content with his small, medicore life now. He woke up, dressed, made breakfast for himself and Draco, then read a novel on the balcony while Draco enjoyed the view of the English countryside. Then he'd head inside, make them lunch and watch Draco inevitably fall asleep after a warm cup of tea. He'd either join him or tidy up the flat until dinner time when he'd awaken the Veela and they'd eat out on the balcony.

For some reason, Harry loved that balcony. It was the reason he bought the townhome to begin with. It was large enough to fit a nice bistro set and overlooked grassy hills and the more populated part of town beyond that. Draco seemed to love the balcony just as much as he did. He'd always lean on the railing and close his eyes, feeling the wind ruffle his hair and tickle his cheeks.

Harry liked to think he did that because it reminded him of flying.

It was on a particularly windy day when Harry was watching Draco do this, that he began to realize things were changing...and he was never meant to stop it.

"Draco, would you sit back down, you're giving me a heart attack." Harry sighed exasperatedly.

Draco gave him a grin and settled back in his chair, but still had half his body pressed onto the railing. Harry sighed again and tried to go back to his book, idly pushing his glasses back onto his nose. It was short-lived, however, as Draco pushed the book down with a finger and curled up into Harry's seat.

The brunette groaned and slumped back in his seat. "Why are you so fussy today? Do you need to stretch your wings?"

It had stopped being a figure of speech as soon as Harry had read up on every Veela book imaginable and he discovered that Draco indeed had wings that needed to be let out atleast twice a week. It was an unfortunate incident and the ceiling fan had never been the same because of it.

It was a tricky affair, however, given the fact that they lived in a muggle village. Even if they were on the outskirts, Harry had to be extra careful no one saw Draco flying round the thick grove of trees that bordered their property.

But this didn't seem to be the cause for Draco's fidgety behavior today. The veela had had a good fly just the other day, it couldn't possibly be time for another.

Draco leaned his head against Harry's shoulder and snaked his arms round the boy's waist. Harry sighed. Oh boy. So it was _THIS_.

It seemed to be happening more and more often now that Draco would purposely be annoying just to get Harry's attention, then demand affection. He admitted, he was growing rather fond of the snuggling and adoration Draco seemed to dish out in spades. It made the aching in his gut subside a little bit.

"Yanno, Dumbledore was wrong. I think you know exactly who you are." Harry said, affectionately stroking Draco's blond locks. Soft, fine locks of gold that spilled over his fingertips like water. "You're still the attention-hungry Draco Malfoy from our Hogwarts days."

Draco murmured nonsense and hugged Harry tighter.

It hadn't taken Harry very long to realize Draco couldn't speak.It wasn't a matter of him not remembering, he just really couldn't talk. Or wouldn't. For almost two weeks, the blond refused to show any form of verbal communication. It wasn't until Harry'd moved them out here that he'd started to relax.Bit by bit, he saw that Draco was growing to trust him. After the horrors Harry couldn't even begin to imagine that the blond had had to go through, he was grateful to see the former Slytherin start to warm up to him.

He'd burble things now and again, much like a bird would, cooing sounds that slightly resembled words. Harry supposed it was this lack of veral communication that allowed him to grow so attached to Draco. He knew he could tell the blonde things and he'd never betray him and tell someone else. Draco would always just sit and listen and never once interrupt.

And sometimes, when they'd be sitting like this on the balcony, or curled up in Harry's bed, he would forget that Draco lost his memory and that he was more or less a pet and that they were casualties of war and that they were all alone in the world. Cause Harry would talk and Draco would nod and they'd just spoon under the warm blankets until they both nodded off.

And it was just moments like that that kept Harry's sanity intact, what little was left of it.

Draco purred happily against Harry's neck as the brunette wrapped locks of white-blond round his fingers absently.

It was moments like this that made Harry not care so much that he'd chosen exile. His life was simple and quiet. Sure, he seriously doubted sometimes whether it was healthy to indulge in his veela so much, but who would ever tell him to stop? As far as the town was concerned, he was just a young rich eccentric and Draco was his Kept Boy.

The blond moved his head up and shocked Harry to the bone with a light brush of his lips against Harry's jaw.

This wasn't the first time the boy had deposited a small kiss, but every time it always managed to do strange things to Harry's nervous system. It was as if Draco whispered messages through those chaste kisses and god help him if Harry didn't understand each and every word.

Bringing him out of his reverie was yet another kiss to his jaw, this one more confident. Harry blinked and stared down at his charge, perplexed. "Draco what are you doing?"

Grey eyes glimmered and to Harry's horror, a few tears escaped down porcelain cheeks.

"Draco? Are you ok? Whats wrong?"

The veela stared at him, then reached up and cradled Harry's cheek so tenderly it almost moved Harry himself to tears.

"Please tell me whats wrong. Are you hurting?"

Draco nodded.

The brunette frowned and pulled away enough to look the blond over. "Where does it hurt?"

Draco slipped his hand down, taking Harry's and placing them both over his chest.

"No, I meant where does it hurt YOU."

Draco's hand pressed more urgently into Harry's chest.

"No, Draco, where does it hurt on YOU? _My_ chest doesn't hurt."

The blond shook his head and fisted a bit of Harry's sweater in his hand.

"Are you saying you...hurt because of my chest? But that doesn't make any sense. My chest feels fine. Its-" Harry started, then was cut off by a soft kiss Draco placed to the center of his chest. With a gasp, the brunette gaped at his companion, his cheeks starting to burn. "Draco..."

The blond licked his lips and shifted to stradle the boy, placing both his hands against Harry's chest.

"D-draco?" Harry stuttered, his eyes widening with each passing second.

The veela stared down into green eyes, silver tears trickling from silver eyes. Before another word could pass Harry's lips, Draco covered them with his own. Harry's muffled protests slowly ebbed away, his hands losing their grip on the armrest.

Another kiss and Harry was gasping. Draco took the opportunity and slipped his tongue between surprised lips. Gently prodding and coaxing, the blond finally elicited a soft moan of pleasure from the Gryffindor.

Harry's eyes slowly slid shut and everything vanished in a flurry of grey feathers. No more pain. No more loneliness. No more fear...it was just him and Draco.

Draco pulled away and led a trail of kisses down Harry's throat as deft fingers pushed the blue sweater from the brunette. Rosebud lips continued on passed a collarbone and down tan skin.

"Draco." Harry breathed, his head rolling back.

Pale fingers traced perfect dances up and down Harry's heated skin, urging moan after fitful moan from a hoarse throat.

"Draco..."

Grey eyes flicked up and a shimmer rushed across them.

"Draco..."

Trousers lay forgotten on the balcony floor, as well as inhibitions.

"Oh God, Draco..."

Pale skin melted with golden and the morning air filled with gasps and whimpers.

Harry held the blond tight against him, gritting his teeth and groaning. "Draco..."

The veela rocked faster, pressing himself impossibly closer as he lost himself in midnight locks and jasmine...

"Draco."

...black cloaks and chalkboards...

"Mmmm, Draco..."

...long hallways and a trick stair...

"God, Draco, you feel so good..."

...grass-stains on knees and splinters in palms...

"Yes, Draco, YES..."

...dark bedrooms, splatters of blood, torn robes...

"Please, Draco..."

...grey wings, screams of pain, darkness...

"PLEASE..."

...darkness...

"_PLEASE_!"

...Harry...

"DRACO!"

"Harry!"

Fingernails drove into pale skin as cries of release rolled over the waking hills. The air throbbed with their passion making as it slowly began to drift back around them. Grey wings curled back inside porcelain flesh and two hearts continued to beat frantically as one.

Green eyes looked down in dazed shock and slender fingers traced gaping lips. They felt the lips move, though no noise escaped them. It didn't take much time to realize what they were trying to say. _Draco?_

White-blond hair fell across flushed cheeks and what felt like for the first time, grey eyes opened. The silence that engulfed them seemed to choke and green eyes looked down.

"Harry."

The brunette jerked his head back up to find a soft smile and even softer grey eyes looking back at him.

"Oh, Harry."

Staring in dumbfounded shock, he could only shake his head in disbelief. A single tear snaked its way down his cheek before gentle fingers brushed it away.

"I knew...I always knew..." Harry threw his arms round the blond's body and held him tight. His hand disappeared into soft blond hair as he rocked them back and forth, praying this not a dream. "You were always in there, Draco...I always believed you were."

Draco buried his face in ebony locks and remembered jasmine and a glimmering sword and blood-stained robes and glistening green eyes screaming love. "I was sleeping...waiting for you..."

"I'm here now, and I'm never going to let you sleep again."

Draco smiled, then smirked and deposited a soft kiss onto Harry's neck. " Is that so?"

Harry pulled away to look at the boy, then slowly smirked himself, relief and eternity shimmering in his eyes." I'm never going to let you close your grey eyes again."

Draco leaned forward and kissed his lips, whisperng messages onto them, "As long as I have you by my side forever, they'll always stay open..."

Green eyes smiled. Grey eyes kissed. Grey eyes opened, watched and he held tight.


End file.
